Chapter 25 #2
“That’s why the Council hesitates,” Queen Elindra continued, her voice maddeningly calm, as if she were discussing the weather rather than condemning an entire people—condemning Aeryn’s child—to some ancient stain they’d never asked for.
“To record a child bearing that corruption in the sacred lineage would be to acknowledge it as belonging to the Silver Bough.
And that, the Council simply cannot abide. “
Aeryn forced air into her lungs—one breath, then another—but it felt like drowning.
Khaeric’s hand found her shoulder, steady and warm through the silk of her gown. The touch anchored her, pulling her back from the edge of whatever dark spiral threatened to swallow her whole.
“So that’s the compromise,” Aeryn said, her voice emerging hoarse and raw.
“You’ll acknowledge my marriage in some dusty supplementary record, but my child—” The word caught in her throat.
She swallowed hard, tasting bile. “My child will be treated as if they carry some ancient curse. Something to be hidden away, ashamed of.”
“Not hidden.” The Queen’s correction came swift and sharp. “But acknowledged for what they are. The child would be recorded as bearing orcish heritage, yes. But the notation would reflect the... complicated nature of that heritage.”
“Complicated.” Aeryn stepped forward, away from Khaeric’s steadying hand. “My child’s heritage is not complicated. It’s a fact. Half elven, half orcish. There’s nothing complicated about it unless you choose to make it so.”
“The histories—”
“Your histories are propaganda.” The words came out louder than Aeryn intended, echoing off the study’s walls. “Stories written by the victors to justify what they did. The orcs have their own histories, their own truths.”
The Queen’s eyes narrowed. “And you would trust orcish histories over our own? Over memories preserved through magic, far older than any living being?”
“I would trust the people who have no reason to lie.” Aeryn’s voice shook. “The orcs gain nothing from their version of events. They were exiled. They lost their homeland. Why would they fabricate a story that makes them sound like—”
Aeryn forced herself to stop. This wasn’t why they were here. The histories, the origins of the orcish people—none of it mattered if she couldn’t secure what they’d come for in the first place.
“This isn’t about ancient histories,” Aeryn said, forcing her voice level. “This is about law. Current law.” She turned back to face her aunt fully. “Show me where in elven statute it says orcs cannot be recorded in the lineage rolls.”
Queen Elindra’s expression hardened, the veneer of sympathy evaporating like morning mist. “The law need not explicitly forbid what was never contemplated.”
“Then it doesn’t forbid it at all.” Aeryn’s pulse hammered in her throat, but she kept her voice steady. “If the law is silent on the matter, the Council has no grounds to deny my petition.
“You misunderstand the nature of what is being offered, niece. The Council is prepared to make an exception.” Queen Elindra moved away from the window, her silk robes whispering against the floor.
“One that acknowledges both your marriage and your child, while preserving the sanctity of our primary records.”
“This is no compromise!” Aeryn shouted. “You’re offering me exactly what Councilor Thalindor suggested yesterday.
A footnote. A lesser acknowledgment. My husband and child relegated to supplementary records as if they’re somehow not quite real enough, not quite worthy enough, to exist in the same space as proper elven bloodlines. ”
The High Queen’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath the smooth perfection of her skin. “You would be wise to consider what I’m offering before you reject it outright. The Council could rule against you entirely. Leave you with nothing.”
“Then let them.” The words came easier this time. “I told you yesterday what my position is. Either my family is acknowledged—my complete family, in the primary records where they belong—or I want no part of your precious lineage.”
For the elves, lineage wasn’t merely record-keeping or bureaucratic formality.
It was the foundation of their entire existence, the bedrock upon which they’d built their sense of self for thousands of years.
Every elf could trace their ancestry back through the ages, could name each generation that came before, could point to the exact moment their house first emerged from the mists of creation itself.
To remove herself from that chain was to sever something fundamental. She would become unmoored, adrift. No longer fully elven in the eyes of her mother’s people, yet never truly human in the eyes of her father’s court. A woman caught between worlds, belonging fully to neither.
But what did belonging matter when measured against her child’s wholeness?
The Queen’s composure shattered. She surged to her feet, robes whipping around her. “You foolish, stubborn girl! Do you have any idea what you’re throwing away? Generations of history, of power, of privilege. All for what? For pride? For some misguided sense of honor?”
“You stand there,” the Queen continued, each word rising sharper, “a half-blood princess who has spent more time among humans than her own people, and you presume to lecture me about our sacred records?”
The Queen continued, “You think this is about pride? This is about survival. Every concession weakens us. Every mixed bloodline dilutes what makes us elven. If we record orc heritage, what comes next? Where does it end? Do you think I have not heard what they whisper? The half-blood princess who spread her legs for an orc. The Silver Bough’s shame. ”
Aeryn stared in stunned disbelief.
Khaeric growled. “Ye will speak to my mate wi’ respect.”
The Queen whirled toward him, eyes wild with rage too long contained. “I will speak to her as she deserves! As a foolish girl who would rather destroy centuries of carefully preserved lineage than admit that some bloodlines should remain pure!”
Khaeric stepped between Aeryn and the Queen. “Ye speak of purity. Yet I see nothin’ pure in yer hatred.”
Queen Elindra bristled. “You dare speak—”
“I dare to speak the truth. Where I come from, we believe strength flows not from isolation.” He stood tall, somehow more dignified than the Queen’s perfect posture. “Yer lineage survives through change, not despite it. A tree that cannae bend wi’ the wind will break.”
The chamber tilted around Aeryn, the edges of her vision blurring as heat flushed through her body. Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat sending waves of nausea crashing through her stomach.
Saliva flooded her mouth. Her stomach clenched in warning. The chamber’s walls pressed inward, the air becoming thick and unbreathable. She reached out, tapping Khaeric’s arm.
Khaeric turned immediately, taking in her pallor. “We’re leaving,” he said to Aeryn, not the queen. He caught Aeryn as her legs gave way.
“This audience is not concluded,” Queen Elindra snapped. “I have not dismissed you.”
Khaeric ignored her, focusing solely on Aeryn as they moved toward the door. “Breathe, lass. Just breathe.”
The Queen’s words came from far away, muffled and distorted. “How dare you turn your back on me! You will not leave until I have finished speaking!”
Aeryn’s stomach heaved as the room spun. She clutched Khaeric’s arm, fighting to remain upright. “Khaeric, I’m going to be—” She didn’t finish. Her body gave out, and she vomited onto the Queen’s polished floor.
The sound filled the chamber, drowning out whatever the Queen might have said next. Shame and sickness washed through her in equal measure as she doubled over, Khaeric’s arm the only thing keeping her from collapsing.
“Easy now,” Khaeric murmured, gathering her hair at the nape of her neck, holding it safely away as another wave overcame her. When the spasm passed, she straightened slightly, wiping her mouth with a trembling hand.
“Water,” a female voice commanded. Aeryn blinked through her tears to see a slender hand offering a crystal goblet. She took it gratefully, rinsing her mouth before taking a sip. The spinning gradually subsided.
Queen Elindra stood before her. “You are unwell.” She observed, tone clipped. The rage that had contorted her features moments before had been tucked away, though its shadow remained in the tight line of her mouth.
“I’m fine,” Aeryn managed, though her body contradicted her words as dizziness swept through her.
“The exertion of our... discussion has clearly overwhelmed you in your condition,” Queen Elindra said, her tone softened to one Aeryn hadn’t heard since childhood.
Aeryn wiped her mouth again, shame burning her cheeks. “I apologize for the mess.”
“My wife needs rest,” Khaeric said, arm tightening around Aeryn’s waist.
The Queen’s lips thinned, but she nodded.
“Indeed. This discussion can be continued once you’ve recovered.
” She rang a small silver bell. Within moments, a servant appeared, taking in the scene.
The Queen stood rigidly beside a pool of vomit, while Aeryn leaned heavily against her massive orcish husband.
“Have the royal carriage brought,” Queen Elindra commanded, once again composed and regal. “My niece requires transport back to the Silverwing Estate.”
“At once, Your Majesty,” the servant said, bowing before disappearing.
“I will have a healer sent to attend you,” the Queen said.
“That won’t be necessary,” Aeryn managed. The thought of some elven healer prodding at her, making notes about the half-blood princess carrying an orc’s child, made her stomach threaten to rebel again.
Without waiting for the Queen’s response, Khaeric bent and swept Aeryn into his arms. The world tilted before settling as she rested against his chest.
Queen Elindra stiffened. “This spectacle is unnecessary, Lord Khaeric. There will be a carriage—”
“My mate needs rest now. No’ after yer servants prepare a carriage, no’ after formal farewells. Now.” He secured his hold on her.
The Queen drew herself to full height. “You forget yourself, Lord Khaeric. In Béalimhe, no one dismisses themselves from the Queen’s presence.”
Khaeric didn’t flinch as he walked away. “In Beinn Ork, no one places protocol above the welfare of a pregnant woman.”
Aeryn closed her eyes. Khaeric’s heartbeat thumped against her ear, a comforting rhythm that anchored her as the world continued to tilt.
The door closed behind them with a soft click, cutting off whatever response the Queen might have made.
The corridor stretched before them, high ceiling and polished floors extending forever.
A servant appeared at the corridor’s end. He hurried toward them, silver robes rustling. “Princess Aeryn, are you unwell? Shall I summon a healer?”
“No healers,” Aeryn managed. “Just take us home.”
“Of course,” he said, gesturing for them to follow. “This way.” He led them through a side passage Aeryn hadn’t noticed, the walls lacking the elaborate tapestries of the main corridors.
Khaeric carried her down the short flight of steps to where the carriage waited. The driver opened the door, eyes widening.
Inside, the cushioned seat gave beneath her as Khaeric settled next to her against the padded interior. He arranged himself beside her, arm supporting her shoulders.
“Silverwing Estate,” the servant instructed through the open door. “With all haste.” The door closed, and the carriage lurched forward.
Aeryn closed her eyes as the motion threatened to bring back nausea. Khaeric’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “I’ve ruined everything,” she said.
“Ye’ve ruined naught. Yer aunt gave us an impossible choice.”
“And I responded by being sick on her floor.” Aeryn tried to laugh, but the sound turned into a choked sob.
“We came to have our family recognized. To find Serathen’s truth, and instead I’ve made things worse.
” She pressed her face against Khaeric’s chest. “They’ll never let us near the Hall of Memories now.
Not after this. We’ve lost our chance to find Serathen’s truth. ”
Khaeric’s hand came up to stroke her hair. “We dinnae ken that.”
“Don’t we? You saw her face. She’d rather erase my child’s heritage than acknowledge the truth. What makes you think she’d ever allow us near their precious memories?”
“Ye’re right.” Khaeric sighed after a moment. “But what ye did was right.”
Aeryn wiped at her tears. “Vomiting on my aunt’s floor was right?”
His chest shook with a soft laugh while his hand continued stroking her hair. “No. Standin’ yer ground was. Ye refused to deny our son’s heritage. Even when it would’ve been easier.”
“I just couldn’t—” Her voice cracked.
The carriage wheels rattled over cobblestones, carrying them away from the palace and toward an uncertain future. “The mountain will welcome him,” Khaeric said. “Whatever the elves decide, Beinn Ork will ken him for what he is.”